The Plowboy
by Scottenkainen
Summary: We return to Disneyland City in Feb. 1956, where the Saint has returned to teach a valuable lesson to a crestfallen Angel and Mickey Mouse is up to more antics.


February 28, 1956. Tuesday afternoon. Central Disneyland City.

The two men were sitting on a park bench. They were both older, distinguished looking gentlemen, the elder in looked to be just over 50 and the younger in his mid-40s. They were both immaculately groomed and dressed for a mild southern California winter in fedoras, black suede coats, and matching slacks. The older man was cheerfully munching on popcorn out of a paper bag while his companion nursed a cigarette. No one would have minded two such men sitting there, people watching, though anyone noticing them would surely notice the remarkable resemblance of the two men to the actors George Sanders and Errol Flynn respectively. That was not who these two gentlemen were, of course. That was just a remarkable coincidence.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" the older man said as he held out his box of popcorn. He looked inquisitively at his companion.

The younger man did not look directly at the popcorn, but stared off into space with a tired look and merely waved away the proffered popcorn with his gloved hand. "No thank you," he said. "I cannot imagine you invited me to Disneyland City to sample the popcorn."

"No, I did not," the older man said with a grin, "but I have found, in my semi-retirement, how to enjoy life's simpler pleasures, like popcorn. I do think you'd like it. It's not buttery, nor too salty."

The younger man simply sighed. After a long drag on his cigarette and tossing the butt on the ground, he said, "I fear I am in danger of being less than charming company."

"Think nothing of it, Thomas," the older man said. "It's happened to all of us."

"What's happened to all of us, Simon? The ennui? The despair?" Thomas said.

"Oh, come now, let's not be too dramatic." Simon said as he grabbed his black cane with his free hand and used it to help him stand up. "Come on, let's walk some more."

Close to the hub of the new part of the city, Simon and Thomas had a choice of themed neighborhoods to walk through, but they opted for the Main Street that led back to Old Anaheim. The sidewalk was crowded, as always, with tourists and locals, both mingling at the same businesses. It required patience to navigate these sidewalks and some people took to the street instead, aggravating the already challenging prospect of navigating this part of the city by car. Luckily, Simon and Thomas were in no hurry.

"How long have you been the Angel?" Simon asked.

Thomas was not taken aback by the question. He had never taken many pains to conceal his identity as the vigilante called the Angel, even bravely going without a mask. "Going on 17 years now," Thomas responded. "Though not so much for the last 10 years…" he said, his head bent down as his thoughts drifted off for a moment. "I know that's nothing compared to how long the Saint has been around."

"The Saint has been around so long, I often wonder how I keep up," Simon said. "And I still keep awfully busy too. I'm due in Bermuda, you know, and would be there already if I weren't visiting you."

"You should have told me. I haven't met you abroad since Amsterdam."

"Be that as it may, there was something here I wanted you to see. Hence, my second trip to Disneyland City."

With that, Simon Templar motioned for Thomas Halloway to follow him to a bus parked up ahead. "Public transportation is really the best way to go about this place, you know," he commented with a glance back at Thomas to make sure he was boarding the bus behind him.

It was standing room only on the bus, so they did not talk much during the ride. Finally, Thomas said quietly, "I had surmised that you brought me here to see the Superhero Clubhouse, but so far, you have only taken me away from it."

"I did not think that would do you much good," Simon said. "You have rejected the appellation of 'superhero' almost as firmly as I have and have worked almost as hard to reject their company. So I did not see what good bringing you there would do to remind you."

"Remind me of what?"

"Of why you do what you do, of course," Simon said, as if absently-mindedly. Indeed, he was glancing rather intently out the windows and his eyes followed every large crowd they passed.

"Or what I did, at any rate? I only took on three cases last year and four the year before that. All minor crimes that anyone could have dealt with."

"And why was that?"

"Because…" Thomas said. He glanced around at the faces of the other people on the bus around them, all eavesdropping on their every word. Clearly, Simon had not intended to give him the option of any private confessions. "Because I'm bored with it all. Did you know I once had superpowers? Briefly, during the war, I could fly and had superhuman strength. And I fought zombies alongside the Human Torch after that. I even had a magic cape that let me fly."

"It all sounds quite marvelous," Simon said.

"It all sounds quite past tense," Thomas shot back.

"And when you're done feeling sorry for yourself," Simon said more harshly than Thomas had ever heard him, "you might think of how lucky you were to have those powers and those experiences and that cape."

"You think I'm just feeling sorry for myself?" Thomas echoed angrily. "Stop this bus!" he ordered the driver. He shrugged off Simon's attempt to take his arm and left the bus. He did not look back, but he heard the door stay open long enough for Simon to disembark behind him.

The bus had taken them into Old Anaheim, along a road that ran between business and residential zoning. They were within sight of an elementary school and could see a large crowd had gathered at its playground.

"What is the matter then?" Simon demanded as he caught up to Thomas.

Thomas spun around and looked his one-time mentor in the eye. "The matter is that I feel useless now! Like…all my best adventures are behind me." Again, he bent his head down, as if ashamed at himself or what he thought of himself.

The moment of silence that followed between them was broken by a burst of laughter from the crowd at the playground. Simon looked over at them. He then un-tensed and spoke more softly again. "If I've guessed right, we've finally found who I've been looking for. Stay with me, just a bit longer." Simon walked off toward the crowd, leaving Thomas to follow.

Once they had made their way into the crowd far enough to see what all the fuss was about, Simon knew he was right. At last, they had stumbled across the living cartoons. Mickey Mouse, wearing just his white shorts and shoes, was visibly flirting with Minnie Mouse, clad in just a white frilly skirt, sun bonnet, and dress shoes. There was also a cartoon cow by them and, on the far end of the playground, a cartoon horse with a white bowler hat on its head and a plow strapped to its back. Minnie responded to Mickey's affection by throwing a bucket of milk over his head, eliciting more chuckles from the crowd and a flurry of photography.

"Here you are, Thomas," Simon said. "This is what you've been looking for."

"What, Mickey Mouse?"

"Something magical. Something special," Simon said as he watched the cartoon characters with a twinkle in his eye and a big, appreciative grin. "Everyone has something special in them. You can't help that you found yours years ago. You've been disappointed that there was nothing else magical for you to find in yourself, but what you forgot is that it's all around you too."

"I thought you were more of a realist."

"In light of the existence of these characters, I've had to revise my opinions. And magic means many things. Not everyone is so lucky as to find something literally magical, like a flying cape. Some of us find it in the unknown. In the mysteries of life. Here is a perfect example. How do these characters exist in the real world? What is their purpose? One could spend months or years trying to puzzle it out."

While they watched, a dejected Mickey Mouse had returned to his plow horse. But then, something startled the horse and it took off charging at the crowd. With a chorus of shrieks, people dodged and ran out of the way. Mickey was being dragged along by his horse, bouncing off of playground equipment and being pulled through bushes as it ran on its spaghetti-like legs. The plow was scraping noisily on the ground behind it.

Thomas was quick to react, racing to intercept the galloping cartoon horse. Since the horse was running back and forth instead of a straight line, it was easier to intercept. Thomas grabbed hold of the horse's harness and tried to slow the beast down. The horse still had a lot of momentum going for it and was on a deadly collision course with three school children who had fled their classrooms to come out and see the cartoons up close, only to risk being killed by them. But just then, Simon was at Thomas' side and, between the two of them, they were able to tug the horse off its course and made it crash into a fence post so hard its head popped inside its body. Mickey landed hard by its side and appeared disoriented instead of hurt.

"The Plowboy. 1929," Simon said after he had caught his breath. "Mickey and friends have been acting out their original cartoons here in the real world."

"And, like a plow horse," Thomas said, "you expect me to go back in the harness and just keep at my job."

"You'll find it will do you a world of good. I don't allow myself the time to become bored with life, nor time to rest on my laurels. There are still plenty of mysteries out there for you, Thomas."

Mickey Mouse had already recovered and used the horse's tail to push its head out of its body. Seeing that the plow had been broken in the crash, Mickey looked around for something to replace it. When he spied a fat-looking boy, he raced to the boy. The horse, too, stood up on its hind legs and came over to help Mickey grab the young boy. Then they tried hooking the boy up to the horse as a replacement plow.

"Whoa!" Thomas said as he raced to their side again. He shooed them off from the boy. "Mickey sure has a vicious streak to him, doesn't he?"

"Don't forget that he's only been alive for less than a year so far," Simon said. "One can only hope he will grow out of the childlike antics of his early cartoons soon."

"Then let's see if we can round these four cartoon characters up and deliver them to the local superheroes quickly," Thomas said. "Then we can catch your plane for Bermuda."

"We?" The Saint asked.

"Yes, if there's an adventure waiting for you there," the Angel said with a wink.


End file.
